


everybody wants to rule the world

by acrookedsaint



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Actress!Veronica, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Modern Royalty, Mutual Pining, Prince!Archie, Prince!Jughead, Princess!Betty, as well as American!Veronica, featuring:, inspired by the Harry/Meghan and Wills/Kate romances, this is the much anticipated (by me) jeronica modern royalty au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrookedsaint/pseuds/acrookedsaint
Summary: As an American actress, Veronica Lodge exists an entire spectrum away from the British monarchy and its golden boy, Prince Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, affectionately known as Jughead. So she doesn’t expect to become his friend. She doesn’t expect to fall in love with him either.ON HIATUS, BUT NOT DISCONTINUED
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge, Reggie Mantle/Josie McCoy
Comments: 30
Kudos: 45





	1. welcome to your life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Lodge meets Jughead Jones. Suffice to say, sparks fly.

**_BREAKING NEWS:_ ** _PRINCE FORSYTHE PENDLETON JONES III, “JUGHEAD”, TO MARRY AMERICAN ACTRESS VERONICA LODGE AFTER A THREE YEAR LONG COURTSHIP._

 ** _THE DEAL IS SEALE_** ** _D:_** _PRINCE JUGHEAD AND HIS AMERICAN SWEETHEART VERONICA LODGE ARE ENGAGED._

 _PRINCE’S JUGHEAD’S ENGAGEMENT TO_ **_HERALD THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA_ ** _IN THE MONARCHY, EXPERTS SAY._

 _PRINCE ARCHIBALD AND PRINCESS ELIZABETH_ **_OFFER THEIR CONGRATULATIONS_ ** _TO PRINCE JUGHEAD AND HIS FIANCE, VERONICA LODGE._

* * *

**OCTOBER 9th, 2020**

The headlines were more positive than usual, Veronica Lodge mused, trying to study both the words on her screen and the massive diamond on her finger at the same time. It really was rather heavy - Betty had warned her of this - apparently the royal jewels were worth every penny they were rumoured to be. 

It was a stunning ring. Befitting of a princess, which was what Jughead had said to her when she’d accepted his proposal. 

It was rather a shame then, that Veronica wasn’t exactly a princess. Or even close to being royalty.

Of course that had all changed now. 

Although, the headlines. Veronica had always known them to be heavy, especially when it came to discussing her life, career and relationships. Unlike Betty, who could never put a foot wrong in the adoring eyes of the public, Veronica was their punching bag, a symbol of the downfall of the monarchy, which was, actually, a very real printed article that she had read aloud to Jughead on one of their less busy mornings. 

But things might change now. Now she had the ring, a symbol of so much more than the love that she and Jughead shared according to the media. Now, instead of single handedly bringing about the downfall of the monarchy, Veronica’s snagging of prince would herald the beginning of a new era - she and Jughead would be the ‘modern royals’.

And still the ring stood for more than that. 

It was also a symbol of acceptance. 

And that acceptance had not come easily. Jughead had had to fight tooth and nail to get his grandfather’s permission to marry Veronica, something that Veronica was sure the old king regretted with every fibre of his being, assuming that the looks he had given her at the engagement dinner were anything to go on. Jughead had argued for weeks with his father and grandfather, which generally involved a lot of pacing and barely contained anger. The royals, even when they were battling a prince’s unseemly infatuation with an American upstart held on tightly to their polite facade. 

But Jughead’s grandfather had not been the only person whose acceptance Veronica had to earn. She’d also had to earn the public’s respect, which hadn’t been easy. Unlike her future sister-in-law, Betty, Veronica was far from the picture of the perfect princess. She was the foreign American to Betty’s homegrown British roots, the brunette to Betty’s blonde and abrasive to Betty’s demure. It was hard for anyone, let alone Veronica, to picture her as a paragon of British royalty, when in reality she was anything _but_ that. 

Yet it seemed Veronica had finally earned the royal _and_ public seal of approval if the newly positive headlines were anything to go by. Only last week they had boasted that a ‘palace source’ confirmed that Veronica and Jughead were on the rocks, set to break up any day soon. 

Veronica should not feel smug about the weight of the ring on her finger in the face of the lies the media has told about her, but she is. She feels an odd sense of victory in simply having it on her finger. It is _proof_ that what she and Jughead have is real. It is proof that it is serious. 

Veronica three years ago would have laughed at Veronica in the here and now. Veronica then would have thought it preposterous that Veronica would be engaged to, let alone in _love_ with a prince. 

But three years is a very long time. 

And it had been such a long three years. So long, in fact, that it was hard to imagine that it had only been three years. Only three years since she had first met Jughead, only three years since she had been sucked into a life she’d always thought she would rather die than live. Only three years since Veronica had decided to broaden her horizons and journey to Britain in search of charitable pursuits and accidentally bumped into a prince. 

Only three years.

Veronica opens a new email on her laptop, ready to bore her mother to death with tales of the headlines that seemed to think her Cinderella when a week ago they had been calling her an ugly stepsister.

She pauses, frowning at the screen. Then she opens a new document instead, a fresh white page, ready for words.

And so Veronica begins to type. 

_It all started with a pair of poorly made, black, high heeled shoes. I don’t remember the brand now, but that’s probably because they broke, inevitably setting off a series of events that would change my life forever..._

* * *

**JANUARY 10th, 2018**

Veronica Lodge hated high heels. This was something she was absolutely certain of, and it was only furthered by the fact that the heel of the shoe she was wearing this very minute, had, in a moment of weakness, snapped. 

And thus, Veronica’s hatred of high heeled shoes had been cemented as she had limped into the hotel lobby looking decidedly less put together than she might have if her heel had been made of more than whatever awful product was used to make heels in ladies' shoes. 

Now, Veronica was sitting in the lobby, mourning the loss of her beloved shoe. It had been one of her favourites too - simple and black, but a gift from her mother on her sixteenth birthday when she’d gotten her first real acting gig. 

Veronica sighs. This day had not been going well before the broken shoe fiasco, now it was positively a disaster. She’d spent the entire morning looking for venues in London to host the charity auction she had been tasked with organising but apparently the royal family was in town for some private functions and everything was booked out solid for the next month. While she _was_ fortunate to be invited to one of those functions tonight, it help her mood in the slightest. 

It was also a cold and wet day, the kind that made Veronica wish she’d stayed indoors and watched reruns of _Golden Girls_ instead of venturing out into the rain in _high heels_.

But to truly top everything off, Veronica had somehow lost the key card to her room. And the hotel lobby was extraordinarily busy - there were definitely paparazzi hanging around somewhere - and thus Veronica was stuck sitting in the lobby, still damp from the rain and holding her broken shoe. 

‘Miss?’

Veronica jerks her head up, and pulls her thoughts back into the present. ‘Yes?’

The man she’d spoken to at the front desk stands in front of her, an impatient look on his face. ‘Your new room key miss. Please don’t lose this one.’

Veronica forces a smile onto her face at the man’s thinly veiled contempt. It appeared that the one thing British people hated more than running out of tea was Americans who couldn’t even be bothered to keep proper track of their belongings. ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘And again, I’m really sorry about the inconvenience.’

The man looked slightly appeased. ‘Enjoy the rest of your stay, Miss Lodge.’

Veronica thanked the man again and started to limp towards the elevator, broken shoe in one hand, key card in the other. It really was too busy in the lobby, with people pressed against the walls and each other. It was nearly impossible to get through the mob, but ten minutes later Veronica managed it, and tucked herself safely into the elevator, away from the throng of paparazzi who, by some act of God hadn’t recognised her in her bedraggled state. 

She was far too tired. Apparently flying around the world was more taxing than she’d ever thought it would be. Veronica was nearly asleep when the elevator gave a slight ping and the doors shuttered open. She checked the red numbers and groaned. She still had ten floors to go. She didn’t remember the ride down this morning being this long. 

Veronica practically punches the ‘shut doors’ button in her hurry to get moving again. She almost didn’t hear the sound of someone shouting ‘Hold the elevator!’

Veronica groaned again. She may have been an upstart American, who couldn’t keep track of her room keys, but she wasn’t cruel. 

She holds the elevator. 

A rather disheveled, but nonetheless handsome young man stepped in and gave her a wild grin. Veronica did not smile back. Instead she glared.

‘You’re making me late,’ she says and the man turns to her, an eyebrow raised.

‘Late for what?’ he asks, and his voice is the kind of posh that Veronica would have killed to nail in an audition. 

‘The _Golden Girls_ rerun that's playing on Channel Seven,’ she replies, craning her neck to look him in the eye. He is overly tall, and in Veronica’s shoe less state he towers over her. ‘Do you usually ask people to hold elevators for you when they have very important television to watch?’

The man laughs. He looks familiar, although Veronica can’t quite place him. ‘Let’s just say that I can get away with anything if I try hard enough.’ 

Veronica frowns. ‘Do you own the hotel or something?’

‘Something like that,’ the man replied, pressing the button for the ground floor. ‘I presume I’ll be seeing you at the party tonight, Miss Lodge?’

‘How do you know my name?’ she begins, and then: ‘And how do you know I’m going to a party tonight- _oh my god you’re the prince_. The one with the weird name.’

Suddenly his familiarity is obvious - Veronica had seen him on television since her mother had decreed she was old enough to watch. The British royal family still had quite the reach in America, so much so that there were regular programs devoted to dissecting the very nature of monarchy. 

The prince smirks and Veronica realises what she’d said. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she blurts. ‘I didn’t mean to imply anything, or offend you, or-’

The prince laughs again. ‘It’s fine. I know my name is weird, no matter which one you choose. But I normally go by Jughead.’

‘How do you even get to be named Jughead?’ Veronica wonders aloud. ‘It doesn’t exactly feel very British.’

‘My mother came up with it,’ Jughead says with a bittersweet smile. ‘She was crazy like that - you know she nicknamed my sister Jellybean?’

‘I did not,’ Veronica says, mostly out of politeness. The prince’s manner had changed abruptly at the mention of his mother, despite him being the one to bring her up.

‘And her real name is far worse than mine,’ the prince continues, jolting Veronica back into the present conversation. ‘Hers is _Forsythia_ , which is genuinely horrible and no one should be saddled with _that_ abomination of a name.’

Veronica frowns. ‘Isn’t your real name Forsythe, or something?’

‘It is, Miss Lodge,’ says the prince. ‘But no one remembers that.’

The elevator door dings once again and Veronica nearly groans when she realises they’re back on the ground floor again. 

‘The pros of being royalty,’ Jughead says, and steps out. ‘I’ll be seeing you Miss Lodge.’

‘Right,’ Veronica says. ‘You know you can call me Veronica, right?’

Jughead grins, lowering one eyelid and winking at her. ‘The cons of being royalty I suppose.’ And he turns, putting on the picture perfect smile he was famous for facing the paparazzi with, leaving Veronica to stare incredulously after him as the elevator doors shut with a clang. 

Veronica’s ride up again goes uninterrupted, which unfortunately gives her far too much time to think about the fact that she had just met the _prince_ , someone who apparently just wandered about hotels like it was no big deal, bumping into American actresses who embarrassed themselves by having no idea who he was and insulting his name. 

Veronica groans, flopping down onto her bed, making sure she replaced her room key responsibly. She didn’t want another run in with one of the hotel staff. 

_It’s official_ , she thinks. _I am an idiot_. _Who comes to Britain without knowing anything about the royal family_?

She sits up. _And who agrees to go to a party without the ability to recognise a single person_?

Veronica forgets all about _Golden Girls_ in her haste to pull her laptop out from underneath a pile of clothes. Feverishly, she opens up a new browser and begins her search. 

What she finds astounds her. 

The history of the British royal family is far more complicated than she ever would have guessed. They don’t have the earth shattering scandals of American politics, nor can their ‘scandals’ really be called scandals - each one had been handled with grace and precision that Veronica envies, but they had still ‘rocked the nation to its core’, as one headline put it. 

She hadn’t realised it, but Jughead’s mother had been HRH Gladys, Princess of Riverdale, whose loss when she had died in a car crash around thirteen years ago had wrecked the nation. Veronica vaguely remembers the funeral procession that she saw on television - Jughead and his sister with their heads down, tears visible on their faces, walking on either side of their father and behind the carriage that carried their mother’s coffin.

Gladys Swan, also known as the ‘People’s Princess’ had been adored by the general public according to every single website Veronica has pursued. She’d been speeding down the runway when she’d died, pursued by the paparazzi. Veronica shudders just thinking about it. 

She moves on to the current Princess of Riverdale, Alice Smith, formerly known as Alice Cooper, Duchess of Register. She’d been previously married, had a couple of children, divorced and married the Prince of Wales, also known as FP, short for Forsythe Pendleton Jones II. 

Her daughter, Elizabeth, is now the Duchess of Elm, recently married to Prince Archibald, fondly known as Prince Archie, Jughead’s adopted brother and FP’s adopted son, second in line to the throne. He’d been adopted when he was five, on the urging of Gladys after his parents had died in a plane crash. Elizabeth and Archie were the golden royal couple of this age, Veronica realised, scrolling through pictures of their wedding. Elizabeth was the picture book princess of every modern fairytale - blonde and delicate, while Archie was red headed and handsome, although he did allegedly have a tendency to be a bit of a wild card. 

They made a very attractive couple, Veronica thinks, scrolling through more pictures of them so she can commit their image to memory. She doesn’t want to make another blunder like the one she’d made in the elevator and not recognise one or more of the most important figures in Britain and be branded as an American dunce. 

The last royal figure that Veronica searches for is the sister that Jughead had mentioned earlier - Jellybean, or rather _Forsythia_. Veronica can understand preferring Jellybean, if she’s being honest. Family traditions, it turns out, are not all they're cracked up to be. 

Veronica closes the browser and sighs. She’d completely missed most of the episodes of Golden Girls, and fallen instead down a rabbit hole of almost-but-not-quite scandals and weird nicknames. 

_It’s for a good cause_ , she told herself. _Me not embarrassing myself in front of half the British monarchy and becoming a laughing stock in the headlines the next day._

But all the thought of family and embarrassment inevitably leads Veronica to thinking about one thing - her own father, halfway across the world with his petty grudges and his hatred towards her for existing. 

Well, not really. 

His hatred towards her for not needing him the way her half sister did - for making a name for herself as a separate entity to him. For living a life she always told everyone she could have only achieved thanks to her mother, with no mention of her father, only polite smiles when someone mentioned him.

She had kept his name though, as a slap in the face. To tell him that, actually, she could survive without him, and she had. 

Veronica turns to her clock and fought back another groan. It was a day of endless disappointment and groaning, it seemed. She had around an hour to get ready for the party - sleep would be impossible in that time. 

_You’re going to have fun tonight_ , she told herself. _You’ll see_.

But all she knows about the British monarchy (and all that she’d learnt this afternoon) has led her to believe that this was going to be a very black and white, suit and tie kind of affair. She doesn’t exactly have a wardrobe that includes partying with royalty in the equation.

In the end, Veronica settles on a long purple Aritzia dress which she’s pretty sure she got for about fifty dollars at a thrift shop a couple of years ago. It had been in Los Angeles, but _still_. She wears her hair down - it only properly reaches just over her shoulders, but it’s now back to it’s natural brown. She’d been dying it glossy black for so long that she’d almost forgotten how it looked when she wasn’t playing a role. 

She looks nice, she decides. Not like she was a member of the royal family, certainly, but like a very high class American actress, which she supposed, she very nearly was. 

_Into the gauntlet you go_ , she thought, squaring her shoulders as she hailed a cab. _You’ve been to a thousand of these parties and it’s always the same: rich famous people showing off their wealth to other rich, famous people_. _You’ve got this_.

But something makes her think that she very much _doesn’t_ have this. 

Still, she takes a deep breath and puts on a smile.

She is an actress after all.

* * *

Elizabeth Cooper, Duchess of Elm, wife of the esteemed Prince Archibald, was _not_ having a good time. She never did at these types of gatherings. Her only job was to sit still and act pretty, smile and nod at anything relevant, and add in charming, but very short tidbits that would lend themselves to the flow of conversation. Suffice to say, she was bored. 

‘Elizabeth, darling, do straighten your shoulders.’

And then there was her mother. Betty shook herself back into the present, giving her mother a hard smile. ‘Of course mother,’ she replies, doing as she was told. Nothing was ever perfect enough for her mother, not even her own daughter. It was something that Betty had learned a long time ago - it was better to agree with her mother in the long run - nothing good came of anyone who decided to disobey the great Alice Cooper.

‘That’s better,’ Alice says, rewarding Betty a smile. ‘You really do look lovely tonight, Elizabeth. But you seem to be missing something rather important. Where is your illustrious husband?’

‘Archie?’ Betty asks, the cold feeling of dread pooling in her stomach. ‘I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.’

Alice frowns and purses her lips. ‘You better go and find him then, dear. We wouldn’t want any rumors to start floating around.’ She gives Betty a meaningful look as she says those last words, before motioning for Betty to go find her wayward husband.

Betty frowns, remembering the fiasco of March, nearly a year ago. Archie had been caught out partying with several models, and although he’d sworn that nothing had happened, that he’d simply been accompanying Jughead, Betty could still feel the mortification she’d felt when she’d found out. 

But that had been then. This was now. Betty knew that Archie was actively working on strengthening their marriage, but she still had her doubts about his faithfulness to her. Just because it didn’t _appear_ that he was having an affair didn’t mean that he wasn’t having one. 

Betty shook her head to rid herself of her doubts. Just because Archie wasn’t _in_ love with her didn’t mean he didn’t love her. Despite everything that had happened, she didn’t believe that he would intentionally hurt her.

 _It’s a pity that he doesn’t believe in making things easy for me_ , she thinks, scanning the crowd. 

Betty grimaces, spotting Archie out of the corner of her eye. He was talking to a vaguely familiar looking brunette woman in a purple dress. She makes her way through the crowd, remembering to keep her back straight and her smile in place.

‘Archie, darling,’ she says, not sparing the other woman a glance. ‘There you are.’

‘Here I am,’ says Archie, not looking like he appreciates the interruption. ‘Miss Lodge, I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my wife, Elizabeth.’

The woman turns to Betty with a smile as practiced as Betty’s own. ‘Veronica Lodge, your Highness.’

‘Wonderful to meet you,’ Betty says. ‘But please, call me Betty.’

‘Only if you call me Veronica,’ Veronica replies, sparing Betty a more genuine, nervous smile. She’s American, something that surprises Betty. They don’t get a lot of foreigners at these type of events, which are typically reserved for the extraordinarily rich and extraordinarily boring. Betty makes a split second executive decision.

‘You need a drink, Veronica,’ Betty says, taking the woman’s arm and winking at her. She leans down to whisper in the shorter woman’s ear. ‘Trust me, it’s the only way to get through this things alive.’

Veronica laughs, looking slightly shocked. ‘I thought all of you royals were supposed to be uptight?’

Betty rolls her eyes. ‘Only the older ones, honestly. Us young-ins tend to be a bit more flexible when it comes to sticking to tradition.’

They walk to the bar, Betty turning back to offer Archie a small smile only to find that he had disappeared again. She tightens her grip on Veronica’s arm, and Veronica turns to her with a sympathetic expression.

‘You really hate these things, huh?’ says Veronica. ‘I can relate.’

‘Why did you come if you hate them?’ asks Betty, genuinely curious. ‘I have to attend, but you can decline your invitation, can’t you?’

Veronica nods. ‘I was going to, but I ran into the prince in the elevator at the hotel I’m staying at and I may have unwisely implied that I would be attending. I thought it would be rude for me to not show up, especially because I didn’t even recognise him.’

Betty doesn’t hear another word after: ‘ _I ran into the prince in the elevator at the hotel_ ’. She feels frozen in place and her ears are ringing. 

‘Archie was at a hotel?’ she says, completely forgetting that she is talking to a near stranger.

Veronica frowns. ‘Not that I know of. I was talking about the other one.’

Betty feels relief wash over her like a cool breeze. Her heart returns to beating out its normal rhythm. ‘Ah. So you’ve met Jughead, then.’

‘That was what he said his name was.’ Veronica grimaces. ‘I may have said that it was weird.’ 

Betty laughs. ‘Oh Jughead _adores_ being called weird. He has a whole speech he does about being a weirdo. I’m sure he took it as a compliment.’

‘You think so?’ Veronica asks, looking relieved. ‘I was really just hoping that I hadn’t offended him.’ 

‘Don’t worry,’ says Betty. ‘I am certain that you wouldn’t have. And even if you did, he wouldn’t have taken it to heart. He’s very easy going, our Jughead.’

Veronica smiles. ‘It sounds like you know him well.’

Betty gives her a quizzical glance. ‘You really know nothing about the royal family, don’t you?’

‘Only the bare minimum,’ Veronica winces. ‘I did some research this afternoon so I could recognise some of the more prominent figures. And there are things that I vaguely familiar to me. But other than that you might as well be speaking Russian.’

Betty smiles. ‘Jughead and I grew up together. Our mothers were always close, but our fathers tolerated each other. We played a lot together, until we were teenagers, when we got different lessons on how to be model princes and princesses.’

‘Ick,’ says Veronica, nudging Betty in the ribs. ‘I bet that was fun.’

‘Oh indeed,’ returns Betty. ‘I spent many hours learning how to walk with a completely straight back and practicing the picture perfect smile.’

Veronica grins. ‘I learnt those things too. Although admittedly it was under very different circumstances.’

Betty laughs. She likes Miss Veronica Lodge a lot, she decides. It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t mind making jokes and laughing out loud rather than simply smirking at a punchline. 

‘Gosh Betty, I see you’ve picked up another stray!’

Betty feels her shoulders fall a little as she recognises the speaker’s voice, despite its overly sarcastic tone.

‘Excuse me?’ Veronica says sharply, but Betty shakes her head. 

‘Veronica,’ she says, ‘Meet Princess Forsythia Pendleton Jones.’

‘It’s Jellybean or JB,’ Jellybean says, rolling her eyes. ‘You know that Betty. And,’ she continues, turning to Veronica, ‘You must be the actress that my brother cannot stop raving about.’

‘Excuse me?’ Veronica asks, this time confused rather than sharp. 

‘Oh,’ says Jellybean, ‘My brother mentioned an absolutely wonderful public figure who was using her position to promote her charity, hence her invitation here tonight. Was that not you?’

Jellybeans’ tone is mocking, and Betty sees Veronica visibly swallow. ‘So you’re _that_ Veronica Lodge,’ she cuts in and doesn’t have to turn to know that Jellybean is shooting her one of her famous death glares. 

Veronica shoots her a grateful look. ‘I suppose I am. My foundation works with the homeless to help them get back on their feet - to help them find residence and employment.’

‘It’s called the Gomez Foundation, right?’ asks Jellybean, examining her nails and feigning disinterest. Veronica subtly rolls her eyes and turns to Betty.

‘I named it after my mother - she was homeless for a period of time in her twenties and while she managed to turn her life around, a lot of people don’t have that opportunity.’

Betty smiles. ‘I can definitely see why you were invited. Is that why you’re in London, for the charity?’

Veronica nods. ‘We’ve just opened up an office in London and we’re celebrating the opening. I’ve come to oversee that.’

‘Ugh,’ Jellybean yawns. ‘You guys are _so_ boring.’ She flounces away, somehow still managing to smile prettily at all of the other party goers as they recognise her.

‘Well,’ says Veronica. ‘ _T_ _hat_ was interesting.’

‘Indeed,’ replies Betty. ‘Jughead says that she’s entering her rebellious phase, but honestly? It’s been years since she’s liked me. I’m still not sure why.’

That was something that Betty had spent a lot of time thinking about in recent years. She’d been close with Jellybean when she was younger - not as close as she was to Jughead and Archie, but close. And yet, three years ago a switch had been flipped and Jellybean had been nearly outright rude to her ever since. Betty had tried to ignore it, but Jellybean seemed to take pride in getting a rise out of her. It was rather unseemly for a princess. 

‘Well,’ says Veronica. ‘I have a sister, and she hates me. So I got you girl.’

Betty smiles at Veronica, seeing the wistfulness in her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she says. And then: ‘It’s not often that I get to talk about things like this. The royals are, unfortunately, obsessed with keeping the truth to themselves.’

Veronica gives her a sympathetic look. ‘I get it. My mother won’t tell me anything about her life before she had me - only that she was homeless for a period of time. It’s frustrating not knowing the whole story - and it’s frustrating not being able to share the whole story.’

There is a pause in the flow of conversation. Not awkward exactly, a comfortable silence.

‘So,’ murmurs Veronica, ‘You’re pretty young to be married, right?’

‘I am,’ says Betty. ‘But Archie and I have known each other our whole lives, so it was the natural progression of our relationship.’

Veronica gives her a weird look. ‘How many times have you rehearsed that, exactly?’

Betty’s face falls. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Well,’ says Veronica, ‘Not really. I’m just good at knowing when people aren’t telling the whole truth.’ 

Betty sighs. 

‘I love him,’ she whispers. ‘I have since we were children. But he doesn’t feel the same way. He never has, and I don’t think he ever will.’

Betty feels the tears build in her eyes. She shouldn’t be talking about this to anyone, much less someone she’d met for the first time an hour ago. 

Veronica wraps her arms around Betty’s shoulders. She doesn’t say anything - she doesn’t have to. At this moment her presence is enough of a comfort, perhaps even more so because she isn’t a part of Betty’s world. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, trying to cover her face with one hand and keep up her smile at the same time. ‘It’s such a stupid thing to be worried about.’

Veronica frowns. ‘It’s not stupid at all B.’ The nickname comes out naturally, and Betty feels a little better at the sound of it. No one has ever called her that before. It’s always Elizabeth or Betty, although Jughead does sometimes call her Betts. ‘It’s natural,’ continues Veronica. ‘It’s natural to worry about your future and it’s natural to want everything to be perfect, even if we know it never will be. That’s what makes us human, I think.’

Betty smiles, her first genuine one in months. ‘Promise me one thing, Veronica,’ she says.

‘Of course,’ says Veronica. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone about this. I’m not that type of person. And besides, we all have our skeletons hiding in the closet.’

Betty shakes her head. ‘That wasn’t what I was going to say, but I appreciate it nevertheless.’ She reaches forward to take Veronica’s hand. ‘Promise me that whatever you do in life, whether it be good or bad, promise me you will never, _ever_ , fall in love with a prince.’

Betty sees Veronica’s eyebrows draw together in a frown but despite that she nods. ‘I promise,’ she says, and it sounds like she means it. ‘Which prince would I fall in love with anyway? Jughead?’

Betty snorts out a laugh. ‘You’re right. You’re not going to fall in love with Jughead.’

Veronica grins. ‘And I don’t know any other princes, either. So I think we’re good.’

Betty straightens her shoulders. Somehow she has met someone today who has knocked down her carefully placed defenses like they were made of paper. Someone who can make her laugh, something she rarely does naturally. She could use someone like that in her life, she decides. ‘Veronica Lodge,’ she says. ‘Would you like to have morning tea with me sometime?’

Veronica looks surprised, although she hides it well. ‘I would be absolutely honoured.’

Betty can’t help it. She beams.

* * *

Jughead grins when he spots his sister in the crowd, looking positively dismayed to be at _another_ party.

 _Such a hard life we have_ , he thinks. _Days full of people making sure we get whatever we want, whenever we want it, and nights full of parties and people who are rich beyond imagination_.

‘Buck up,’ he says to Jellybean when he reaches her. ‘You know that we could be far worse off than this.’

Jellybean rolls her eyes. ‘You say that _every single time_ I do you the disservice of daring to look bored at a party.’

‘Because it’s true,’ Jughead returns, wrapping his arm around his sister’s shoulders in amusement. ‘What are you doing, anyway?’

‘Looking for Archie,’ his sister says. Jughead frowns. That seems to be her answer to everything these days.

‘He’s probably with Betty,’ he says carefully. ‘You know, his _wife_.’

Jellybean glares at him. ‘He’s not. I saw her go off with that Veronica girl ages ago. Little Bettykins has made a new friend.’

Jughead winces. ‘JB, have I ever told you that you’re the worst? Betty can do what she wants.’

He pauses. ‘Did you say Veronica?’

‘I did,’ says Jellybean, watching him carefully. ‘Although why you’re so interested in her, I have no idea. I talked to her and she was not that interesting.’

Jughead shakes his head. ‘That’s not the point at all. And she seems plenty interesting.’

Jellybean exhales. ‘And dear brother, do tell me, what _is_ the point?’

‘Dad didn’t want me to invite her to the party,’ Jughead says. ‘And it wasn’t because of anything she’s done, I don’t think. I don’t know. He acted like I’d slapped him across the face when I said her name. I think he’s hiding something.’

‘Or,’ argues Jellybean, ‘He’s being weird, like fathers are prone to be. Don’t read too much into it Jug. The most likely scenario is that he didn’t want to invite her because she’s American and he’s especially sensitive about Americans.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Jughead murmurs. But she hadn’t seen their father’s face when he’d mentioned Veronica Lodge, actress and philanthropist, making headlines at the moment due to her efforts to help the homeless through her charity, the Gomez Foundation. 

FP had been a prince far longer that Jughead had, and thus knew how to control his facial expressions a lot better than Jughead did. But something had slipped through his mask - a flinch when he’d heard the word Lodge.

Jughead hasn’t had a chance - not really - to investigate. But there had been something wrong with his father after he’d heard that name. 

Maybe there was no conspiracy theory, but Jughead was sure that there was something secretive going on. He’d bet his crown on it, in fact. 

He only hopes that it isn’t the type of secret that could ruin his father. He only hopes that Veronica Lodge is truly here to be charitable.

Jughead puts on his best princely expression and greets another guest. But for the rest of the night, lurking in the back of his mind is the girl in the elevator, clutching her broken heels and complaining about missing _Golden Girls_.

For some reason, it almost makes him smile.

* * *

By the time Veronica makes it back to her hotel room, it’s past midnight and she’s exhausted. She’d spent most of the night chatting to Betty, who she’d found to be quite lovely, and not nearly as stiff in person as she’d looked from across the room.

Veronica plugs her phone into the wall and watches as the screen lights up. She has exactly seven missed calls from her mother. She winces, and calls back.

‘Hey mom,’ she says when her mother picks up the phone.

‘Hello, _mija_ ,’ says Hermione Gomez. ‘Why did you miss my calls?’

‘I was at a party, mom.’ Veronica says. ‘I turned my phone off. I told you about that, remember?’

‘I do,’ says Hermione. ‘But I thought you weren’t going to a party tonight. I thought you’d declined the invitation?’

‘Well,’ sighs Veronica, ‘I had thought of doing that, but by a twist of fate I bumped into the prince in the elevator.’

Hermione’s breath hitches. ‘You met the prince?’

‘I did,’ says Veronica. ‘He seemed nice.’

Hermione makes an impatient sound. ‘Well? What did he say? Did he know who you were? Oh God, please don’t tell me you did something stupid _mija_. Please tell me that you remembered your manners. The British tend to be a lot more uptight than we are.’

‘He didn’t say much,’ Veronica answers. ‘We weren’t in the elevator for that long. But he did know who he was and I definitely did something stupid, as I am prone to do.’

‘Tell me,’ demands Hermione. ‘No don’t. I don’t think I can bear learning about how my daughter has brought shame onto my name.’

Veronica chuckles. ‘All I said was that he had a weird name. And Betty told me that he probably took it as a compliment.’

‘Well if _Betty_ says so,’ grouches Hermione. ‘Wait, who’s Betty?’

‘Oh,’ replies Veronica. ‘Well that would be Elizabeth Cooper, Duchess of Elm, who I am having morning tea with tomorrow.’

‘You are?’ asks Hermione excitedly. ‘Veronica, darling, you really do get around, don’t you?’

Veronica laughs. ‘Relax mom. She’s helping me with some arrangements for the charity, that’s all.’

Hermione sighs. ‘Well a mother can dream, can’t she. And I’ll let you get some sleep now _mija_. Dream sweet dreams and remember that I love you.’

‘I love you too, mom.’ Veronica says, and hangs up. 

She lies awake for sometime after the phone call, thinking about her day. It had ended up being a bit of a success - after all, she’d somehow roped royalty into helping her out. 

Betty’s words from earlier in the night come back to her then - _never fall in love with a prince_ , and she’s not quite sure why. Perhaps it was because she’d made a promise, something that Veronica had never made lightly. Her father’s habits had rubbed off onto her after all. 

_It’s not like there are any princes available to fall in love with_ , she thinks as she drifts off to sleep. _I suppose there’s Jughead, but the odds are that I’ll never even see him again_. 

If only she knew.

* * *

**OCTOBER 9th, 2020**

Veronica pauses, staring at the screen. She’s recounted that first night in her head a thousand times. It feels different now that she’s put it down in words. 

She can still remember the way Betty had said those words - _never fall in love with a prince_. And she can still remember her promise, which she’d pretty much defaced at this point. 

Veronica frowns at those words. She’d paid no mind to them at the time of course, because she wasn’t in the habit of falling in love with anyone, let alone unavailable princes. 

But she had fallen in love with a prince. And it had changed everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, this is dedicated to cara. all the love.


	2. there's no turning back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica and Betty continue to bond as Veronica and Jughead’s relationship progresses.

**OCTOBER 9th, 2020** ****

‘Veronica Cecelia Lodge, what on earth do you think you’re doing? You’re being interviewed in less than six hours!’

Veronica smiles at her best friend, the one thing she’d been allowed to retain from her life as a common citizen (aside from her mother, of course). ‘I’m writing, Cher. It feels...freeing.’

Cheryl scoffs. ‘V, how many times have I told you that the part of you that wants to tell the whole truth can never be allowed to break free? And besides, I’m not the one who decided to give up everything so that I could marry a prince. As much as I hate saying this, you brought this whole thing upon yourself.’

‘No,’ Veronica agrees. ‘You just gave up your entire life so that you could marry his photographer. And I know I chose this, but I never thought it would be this hard.’ 

Cheryl blushes. ‘You may have a point. But Toni’s not royalty and I don’t have to keep secrets in order to be with her. I know you love Jughead, V, but everything involved in being with him is a massive secret.’

Veronica sighs. ‘That’s why I’m getting it out, Cher. That’s why I’m telling the truth. So at least it’s out. So at least it doesn’t fester inside of me. Because it’s killing me. I need to do _something_.’

‘I get it,’ says Cheryl, smoothing her hands over Veronica’s hair gently. ‘But maybe you should be writing it rather than typing it out. You never know when you’re going to be hacked.’

Veronica laughs. ‘Okay. You’re right.’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ grins Cheryl. ‘But if you’re not out here at _least_ an hour before it’s time to go I _will_ be having words.’

‘As you wish Cher,’ says Veronica, smiling at her best friend. She puts her laptop away, pulling out her favourite pen - one that Jughead had gifted her a long time ago.

She presses pen to paper, frowning as she tries to remember where in the narrative she was up to. 

_It was January 17th, 2018. Looking back, I think that this was the day everything truly changed. I learnt many things that day - how far people were willing to go for a good story, the power of friendship and the fact that some people could be blind to the things right in front of their faces._

_At this point I had spoken to Jughead a handful of times, although never alone. He’d been key in helping Betty and I organise the ‘charity event of the century’. Well, according to Betty, anyway._

_But the facts of the matter didn’t stop the tabloids from leaping on something that wasn’t even there. At least, wasn’t there yet…_

* * *

**JANUARY 16th, 2018**

Archie Andrews spent the sixteenth day of January in the same place, every year, without fail. He’d been following this tradition for as long as he could remember, and when he was old enough to make a decision over whether he wanted to continue it, he couldn’t say no, because he couldn’t imagine not being able to see his parents every year.

Fred and Mary Andrews were buried exactly where FP had always told Archie was their favourite spot in the entirety of the palace gardens. It had even been where they’d gotten married, unconventional as it was. 

All in all, it was a nice spot for someone to spend the rest of eternity. Even in winter pink blossoms sprung free as if they had been waiting all year to do so.

‘I wish I could remember them.’

Betty smiles a little sadly as she says the words. ‘I always hear about how wonderful they were, but I don’t know how you can admire, or even love someone you didn’t even know.’

Archie nods, but he’s worlds away. He _does_ remember his parents - flashes, at least. The smell of his mother’s hair and the sound of his father’s laugh. He’d been three when they’d died, with nothing to remind him of them except for the look that FP would sometimes get in his eye on the anniversary and wedding photos that couldn’t give Archie what he really needed - people to guide him, to _love_ him unconditionally.

At his side, Betty stirs, leaning down to place a bouquet of white lilies upon the graves. The flowers, just like the headstones, are simple, yet beautiful things. 

Everything Archie has ever known about his parents suggests that they would appreciate the gentle reminder of their lives.

He feels the grief building in his chest. He knows that Betty means well, but she can’t quite understand. He loves his parents with all of his heart, even though he never knew them. He loves them, even though he knows it’s simply a version of them that he’s concocted in his mind, now the version that actually existed. 

‘Thanks for coming Betts,’ he whispers. ‘But I think I need to be alone right now.’

‘Oh,’ says Betty, and her face falls, just a fraction. If Archie hadn’t known her for as long as he has he probably wouldn’t have noticed. ‘Of course, Arch. Let me know if you need anything.’

Archie smiles. He hates hurting her, but what he hates even more is that she’ll never tell him that she’s hurting. She’ll walk away with her head held high before she’ll ever admit that sometimes she wishes they’d never gotten married. 

Still, he manages a smile. ‘I will,’ he says, and those two words seem to appease her, just a little. She squeezes his hand gently as she walks away, and soon Archie is alone, staring at the graves that remain the only place where he can remember his parents the way he wants them to be remembered. 

‘Tales of the old,’ he says. ‘Of the secrets we hold. I want to be well. Lucky to even feel love at all.’

He doesn’t quite remember the year he first started reciting the poem. He knows that he wrote it when he was about sixteen. Sometimes the words don’t make much sense, but he thinks it fits the version of the parents he wishes he’d had.

‘Words run like a race,’ he continues. ‘And maybe I spoke too late. You try and erase every memory, every shape, but I host them in place.’

‘Where have I gone?’ he whispers. ‘And where have you gone?’

There is a crack as someone treks through the leaves towards him. Archie knows, without turning, that it’s Jughead.

‘Take me back to summer time,’ Jughead says, ‘Endless love and endless wine.’

‘It’s the song that everyone sings,’ Archie finishes, and Jughead comes to lay a hand on his shoulder. 

‘Does it get easier each year?’ he asks. If it were any other person asking, Archie would scoff. But it’s Jughead, and Jughead knows grief that many could not even fathom. 

‘No,’ he says. ‘Because I feel as though I am mourning ghosts.’

Jughead nods. ‘I thought so.’

Archie sighs. ‘It doesn’t make this any less depressing though.’

‘I thought that Betty came with you now,’ Jughead starts, diplomatically. ‘But when I passed her she looked frazzled.’

Archie swallows. ‘She’s helping Veronica with the charity thing. She’s a bit stressed. And she did come. I just needed to be alone.’

Jughead frowns. ‘I know that married life has been difficult on you Arch, but you really have to start letting Betty in. You had no problem with it _before_ you were married. Why do you have a problem with it now?’

‘I don’t know,’ Archie groans. ‘The more things stay the same, the more they change, I suppose. Betty’s always been there, and now she’s still there but I don’t know how to act anymore.’

‘Okay,’ Jughead says. ‘I get it. But you can’t just go through life pretending that you don’t care about anything. You coming out here every year without fail, reciting that poem? It’s proof that you _do_ care.’

He pauses. ‘Did you say something about Veronica?’

Archie laughs. ‘I knew it! You’ve mentioned her in every single conversation we’ve had this past week. What’s going on Jug?’

Jughead rolls his eyes. ‘Sometimes I forget that you only pretend to be stupid.’

‘So you’ve got a bit of a crush, right?’

‘No!’ says Jughead. ‘Of course not. I’ve only really spoken to her a couple of times anyway.’

‘Hmm,’ says Archie. ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’

Jughead groans. ‘I swear, on your life Arch, that I do not have a crush on Veronica Lodge. This has more to do with my father than anything else.’

‘What’s FP got to do with you fawning over a foreigner?’

‘Well,’ begins Jughead, rubbing a hand across his forehead, ‘He’s being weird.’

‘Weirder than normal?’ Archie jokes. ‘You know how FP is Jug. He’s forever being cryptic. He _likes_ being cryptic.’

‘I know,’ says Jughead. ‘That’s why I’m worried. He’s genuinely scared. Of what I have no idea. But I’ve never seen him like this, and to be honest Arch? It’s freaking me out. What could he possibly be hiding?’

Archie shrugs. ‘How would I know? And besides Jug, I’m sure, if it’s really something to be worried about FP’s got it under control. Nothing’s more important than you and the crown. You know that.’

‘I guess,’ says Jughead. ‘But still. It’s weird, and Dad doesn’t do weird. He only does carefully planned and he never lets anything rattle him. So why is he rattled?’

‘I don’t know, Jug. But maybe you shouldn’t let it bother you as much as it does. It’s going to get you nowhere and you get obsessed easily. For all you know, it could be nothing.’

Jughead sighs. ‘You’re probably right. I can’t really ask him anyway.’

‘So…’ Archie begins. ‘Are you attending the charity event tomorrow?’

Jughead rolls his eyes. ‘You mean the one being hosted by the one and only Veronica Lodge?’

‘That would be the one,’ Archie laughs. ‘I know that Betty would love to see you there.’

‘I will then,’ Jughead decides. He smiles at Archie. It’s a little bittersweet. ‘You need more time?’

Archie takes a deep breath and returns his gaze to the graves, bathed in the light of the early morning sun. ‘Yeah,’ he murmurs, and Jughead pats him gently on the shoulder before leaving him alone with his parents.

‘I thought this would be easier,’ Archie says when he’s alone. ‘I thought it would _get_ easier. But I suppose that’s why death messes us up so much, right? You think you’ve moved on, but in reality you’ll always remember it, whatever stage of grief you’re in.’

He pauses. ‘And you’ll always be thinking about it, and sometimes you’ll wake up in the middle of the night because you still can’t get it out of your mind.’

The wind whistles through the trees, the scent of winter still in the air. Archie smiles when the sun hits his skin, warming him down to his bones.

‘It’s the song that everyone sings,’ he whispers. ‘I’ll always love you, you know that right?’

The graves offer no reply. But Archie knows that somewhere, somehow, his parents are listening.

* * *

**JANUARY 17th, 2018**

‘Oh. My. God. Veronica Cecelia Lodge. How could you not tell me that you met a _prince?_ And not any prince, _the_ prince?’

Veronica groans. It’s far too early in the morning to be fielding calls from Cheryl Blossom. ‘Because that’s all that happened? I met him a couple of times. I don’t know why you think that’s such a big deal.’

Cheryl laughs, something that sounds disturbingly like a fully fledged cackle. ‘Veronica, my dear, I need to know whether you and the prince with the weird name are having a very lowkey romance. If you are say no, just in case somebody’s listening in.’

‘Cheryl…’ Veronica whines. ‘I’m not dating a prince.’

‘Okay,’ Cheryl says, and Veronica can hear the disbelief in her voice, even over the phone. ‘I believe you.’

‘Right,’ says Veronica. ‘Why were you calling again?’

‘I can’t just call to say hello to my darling best friend? And you should be glad to hear from me. I’m certain that I am your _only_ friend after all.’

‘You’re deflecting,’ replies Veronica, rolling her eyes. ‘Why did you really call Cher?’

And then something occurs to her that makes her stomach run cold. ‘And how did you know that I met Jughead? Have you been talking to my mother?’

There is silence on the other end of the line. And then:

‘You don’t know?’

‘Don’t know what?’

‘You haven’t read the tabloids?’

‘ _What_ tabloids?’

When Cheryl speaks again her voice is so soft that Veronica has to strain to hear her words clearly. ‘ _All_ of them, V. You’re _everywhere_.’

‘ _What_ ?’ Veronica’s voice is shaking. ‘What are you talking about? How can I be _everywhere?_ ’

‘Search yourself up on Google V. I know you hate doing that, but you have to.’

Veronica opens her laptop and pulls up the search bar. She puts Cheryl on speaker.

‘Just search up my name?’ She asks, suddenly scared beyond measure.

‘Just your name,’ Cheryl says gently. ‘I’m right here, Veronica. It’s going to be okay. You know me, I’m prone to exaggeration.’

But when the search results load, Veronica can see, with her own two eyes that Cheryl is _not_ , in fact, exaggerating. 

There are, by far, many more articles spelling out her name than she has ever seen before in her life. There are very poor quality paparazzi pictures of her walking in and out of her hotel. There are detailed investigations into her career. She’s trending on Twitter. She’s gained way too many followers on Instagram, all because of...what?

‘Why is my name splashed all over the internet, Cheryl?’

Cheryl clears her throat. ‘I think you know why, V. Clearly it’s not true, but you know why.’

‘I’ve been spotted with him,’ Veronica says, clicking furiously, ‘Exactly two times. Two times, Cher! Two times!’

‘I know V,’ says Cheryl. ‘But people make assumptions. I think you have the evidence of that right in front of you now.’

And as much as Veronica hates it, as much as she wishes she had never bumped into a prince in an elevator of the hotel, she does.

 _WHO IS_ **_VERONICA LODGE_ ** _, PRINCE JUGHEAD’S POSSIBLE NEW FLAME?_

 ** _FAMILY APPROVES!_** _VERONICA LODGE AND PRINCESS BETTY ARE REPORTEDLY, ‘VERY CLOSE’. PALACE SOURCE SPILLS ALL!_

 **_VERONICA LODGE’S TRAGIC LIFE STORY REVEALED_ ** _...THE REAL REASON PRINCE JUGHEAD IS ENAMOURED!_

 _WHY_ **_PRINCE JUGHEAD DATING VERONICA LODGE_ ** _ISN’T A GOOD LOOK FOR THE ROYAL FAMILY_

‘My tragic life story?’ Veronica asks. ‘What the hell is my tragic life story?’

‘Oh I skimmed that one,’ Cheryl replies brightly. ‘It’s all about how your mother overcame homelessness and you battled against the odds to make a name for yourself.’

‘Right,’ says Veronica. ‘Is there a reason why it’s only being revealed now?’

‘You mean now,’ says Cheryl. ‘And not in the numerous interviews you did detailing your life when you were first becoming famous?’

‘That would be right,’ groans Veronica. ‘This is awesome. I’m spotted talking to a prince _twice_ and already I’m the face of the modern royal family.’

‘It could be worse,’ Cheryl says sympathetically. ‘At the moment it’s fairly positive.’

‘Not on Twitter, it’s not.’

‘Don’t look at it then.’

‘I can’t help myself, Cher. I have to know what people think of me - I always have and I always will.’

‘Jesus, Veronica,’ Cheryl snaps. ‘You need to grow a thicker skin. If you’re going to be dating a prince, you’re going to have to learn to ignore all of the insults and horrible things that people are going to throw at you.’

Veronica sighs. ‘I know. But sometimes it’s hard to separate- did you just say _going to be dating a prince?'_

She can practically hear Cheryl rolling her eyes. ‘I’ve seen the pictures Veronica. I’m not blind.’

‘Blind to what?’

‘That look in your eye! You’ve got a crush on the prince! And normally I would say that this is one of your phases-’

‘Hold on,’ Veronica interrupts. ‘I don’t have a crush on Jughead!’

Cheryl snorts. ‘Yes you do.’

‘I do _not_!’

‘You _do_.’

‘I _don’t_!’

‘I mean, you _do_ , but that’s not the point. The point is that usually I would tell you to let it be, to not pursue it in any shape or form. Except…’

‘Except what?’

‘Except for the look in the prince’s eye.’

Veronica swallows. ‘What look?’

‘You know what look,’ Cheryl says smugly. ‘Now _you’re_ deflecting.’

‘I’m not,’ murmurs Veronica. ‘It’s just, are you sure?’

‘You know I’m never wrong, Miss Lodge. I have a perfect track record, after all.’

‘Yeah,’ smirks Veronica. ‘Except when it comes to your own relationships.’

There is a silence at the other end of the line and Veronica winces. ‘I’m sorry Cher. You know I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.’ 

‘It’s okay,’ Cheryl says, taking a deep breath. ‘I’m just all out of sorts today. You know how it is.’

‘Cher,’ Veronica says gently. ‘You’re not alone, you know that, right?’

‘I know,’ says Cheryl, and Veronica can hear her voice breaking. ‘But sometimes I get lonely. And I hate it. I hate that after everything I still get lonely. I should be okay, you know?’

‘I know,’ Veronica whispers. ‘But loneliness is the most human feeling of them all, Cher. And besides, I’m here. And I have multiple sources confirming that I have a tragic life story so I can definitely keep you company.’

‘Okay,’ says Cheryl, letting out a choked laugh. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’

‘Cher,’ Veronica begins, but Cheryl has already hung, leaving Veronica alone with the headlines that tell her she’s far too deep into something that doesn’t even exist.

Her phone rings and Veronica smiles when she sees that it’s Betty. ‘Hey B!’ she says. ‘I was just about to head on down to the venue!’

‘Veronica,’ says Betty, sounding uncharacteristically serious. ‘You need to meet me _now_. We have a crisis.’

‘A crisis?’ Veronica asks, already half panicking. ‘What kind of crisis? What do you mean-’

‘Just be there in ten minutes,’ Betty interrupts. ‘And don’t wear bright colours!’

‘I-’ Veronica starts, but Betty has already hung up. 

She sighs. Could the potential disaster have something to do with the headlines - which are multiplying by the minute?

Veronica puts her face in her hands. How could something so innocent become so twisted?

_Never fall in love with a prince._

Betty’s words come back to Veronica then, and she grimaces.

 _You were right, B,_ she thinks. _I’m not even in love and look at me. Surrounded on all angles with nowhere to go. I’ll never escape this, even if I don’t see any member of the royal family again._

And as Veronica goes to get dressed, one more thought crosses her mind, perhaps the most sobering of them all.

_How did anyone survive royalty, and everything that came with it, even if they were born into it? How could you go through every day being dissected and attacked and prone to fall from grace at any given moment?_

_But, above all else, would it even be worth it?_

* * *

‘It’s _bad_ , Jug,’ Betty says, scrolling through the various articles that have popped up on her phone. ‘They’re getting desperate. They’re ready to jump on anything - even something as innocent as this.’

‘ _Who’s_ desperate?’ Jughead asks, frowning at her as his eyes flicker over the words on the screen, his face betraying nothing. 

‘The media,’ she answers. ‘You give them nothing - no hint into your life and what you might be doing with it. Not glimpse into whether you’re ready to fall in love. So they take what they can get, even if it is preposterous. You’re going to have to make a statement.’

Jughead jerks his head up. ‘Make a statement about what?’

‘Veronica,’ Betty states. ‘Dispelling all of these rumours.’

Jughead looks confused. ‘Why would I do that?’

‘Because,’ Betty starts, trying to omit patient and caring vibes to her step brother and brother-in-law, ‘After tonight the vultures are going to crucify Veronica. I know it, you know it, and pretty soon she’s going to know it too. All she’s here to do is organise events for charity, Jug. She doesn’t deserve what I’m fairly sure is going to happen.’

‘Okay,’ Jughead says. ‘What do you want me to say?’

Betty frowns. ‘Maybe something about how Veronica’s my friend, and we’re organising events for charity together? And maybe add something about how you also have a friendship with her that won’t cross into dating - something like that, okay?’

‘Right.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Do you not like something about that very broad statement I just drafted?’

‘It’s fine.’

But it’s clearly not fine. Jughead’s frowning - he’s not angry, more confused, more perplexed. 

‘Juggie,’ she says, using his long forgotten childhood nickname. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Betts,’ he replies, looking her right in the eye. ‘It’s fine, alright? I’ll make the statement - explain how you and Veronica are friends and how there’s nothing romantic between the two of us.’

And there it is. Jughead’s eye twitches when he says the word ‘romantic’. Betty gasps. 

‘What?’ snaps Jughead, annoyed now.

‘You _like_ her,’ Betty says, ecstatic. ‘You _like_ like her!’

‘Seriously?’ Jughead asks. ‘Are we five?’

Betty giggles. ‘You really, _really_ like her!’

Jughead glares. ‘How are you even worse than my _actual_ sister?’

Betty claps her hands together. ‘This changes everything! Okay. Don’t make the statement. Ask her out instead!’

‘ _What_ ?’ Jughead says incredulously. ‘You want me to do _what?'_

‘Yes!’ Betty cries. ‘This is perfect! You like her, and I’m fairly positive that she likes you too. You share so many interests, physically you compliment each other wonderfully, and best of all, she’s a perfect candidate!’

Jughead knits his eyebrows together. ‘While I am not against this idea - _don’t grin at me like that_ \- Veronica’s the perfect candidate for _what_ , again?’

‘Marriage, of course,’ Betty says, matter of factly, as Jughead makes a choking sound. 

‘But I just met her!’

‘And you’re already smitten!’

‘What if she doesn’t feel the same?’

‘Trust me, she _does_.’

‘That doesn’t make up for the fact that I don’t know if we’d even _make_ it to marriage.’

‘Well, as they say, when you know, you know.’

‘Betty,’ Jughead growls. ‘This is quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.’

‘That’s not true,’ Betty says. ‘Do you remember how I once made Archie get into that suit of armour?’

Jughead sighs. ‘Yes. You’re probably right. But this is a close second.’

‘I’m not saying you _have_ to marry her,’ Betty says gently. ‘But I’m saying that you like her and she likes you and that maybe, for once in your life you should go for it.’

‘And,’ she adds. ‘Veronica would be a really cool sister-in-law.’

* * *

Veronica is nervous. She doesn’t know what the crisis is or why Betty sounded so serious on the phone. But she’s sure that it can’t be good. 

She prepares herself for the worst - maybe they’ve ordered the wrong amount of food, or they’ve been sent the wrong kinds of food, and why do all of her crisis scenarios involve food?

But when she enters, everything looks to be perfectly in place - each bauble and trinket, all of the placecards and stylish decorations.

There doesn’t appear to be a crisis.

In fact, the only thing out of place is the prince, pacing in the middle of the room.

‘Jughead?’ she calls, and Jughead whips his head around faster than she would’ve thought was humanly possible.

‘Veronica,’ he says, smiling awkwardly. ‘You’re here.’

‘I am,’ she confirms. ‘Betty said there was a crisis?’

Jughead winces. ‘I’m afraid that was a bit of a white lie. I kind of needed you to come down early, without asking too many questions.’

‘Well I was coming down anyway,’ Veronica says. ‘You’re not about to murder me, are you?’

Jughead laughs. ‘Nope. It’s going to be something much, much worse.’

‘Hmm,’ smiles Veronica. ‘Have I somehow landed upon a state secret?’

‘This is Britain, Veronica,’ Jughead smiles. ‘What secrets?’

She laughs. ‘Was this organised so you could mess with me, or is there a point?’

Jughead takes a deep breath. ‘There is definitely a point. And I want you to know, that no matter what, there is absolutely no pressure. You don’t have to say yes.’

‘Say yes to what?’

‘A date.’

‘A date?’

‘With me. I probably should have clarified that it was with me.’

‘You want to go out with me?’

‘Well,’ says Jughead, ‘you’re very charming.’

Veronica giggles. ‘ _I’m_ charming? You’re the prince!’

Jughead wiggles his eyebrows. ‘You have a certain charisma, I suppose. And you laugh at the very crappy jokes I might, although to be fair you might be afraid of imprisonment if you don’t.’

‘Maybe they’re just funny jokes,’ Veronica offers, but Jughead rolls his eyes at her.

‘I may be a sheltered prince, Veronica,’ he says, ‘but I do have _some_ common sense.’

He takes a breath. ‘I really like you. I can’t explain it, but I look at you and all of my problems fade away, bit by bit. You’re someone I’d like to know. Someone I _need_ to know. I don’t know why. But what I do know is that I, Jughead Jones III, would like to go on a date with you.’

‘I think…’ Veronica begins, ‘I think you’re someone I need to know too.’

‘So…’ Jughead says. ‘Is that a yes?’

Veronica smiles. ‘That would be a yes.’

Jughead’s grin is a little wild. ‘Betty’s going to be way too enthusiastic about this.’ 

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

* * *

The party is in full swing by the time Jughead has done the rounds and said the perfunctory greetings to particular guests. Betty and Veronica are holding court in the centre of the room, and every so often Veronica will looks over at him and smile, bright and blissful. 

It’s the kind of perfect he didn’t think could happen to someone like him - he’d always known he would have to marry, have to start the new line of royalty. But in this moment, watching Veronica laughs at what is probably a very bad joke from the subtle way she stretches her neck, (he knows because she’d done the same thing to him this very morning), he’s just a boy with a crush, watching said crush charm the living daylights out of her guests despite being an upstart American. 

Jughead grins. He’s trying not to, but he does. It’s almost like he can’t help it, the same way he can’t help the way his breath hitches and his heart beats just a little bit faster. It makes him feel like he’s seventeen again with a stupid crush on Betty because she’d smiled at him more than usual for a couple of days. It had been because he’d gotten accepted into university, but it had gone straight to his head anyway.

But this girl? There’s something about her that he can’t explain and can’t ignore. There’s more to it than simply his father’s need to have her out of the picture. More to it than Betty’s fast but serious attachment to her.

No. Veronica Lodge smiles at him because she wants to, not because she knows that there are people looking and it would be good for her image to cozy up to a prince. Veronica Lodge laughs at his bad jokes because she finds them genuinely funny, not because she’s trying to stroke his ego.

Veronica Lodge looks at him like he’s something out of a dream she’s just woken up from. Like she can’t quite figure out who he is or why he’s here, but somehow, in someway, he’s important.

He likes that look on her. He and likes her smiles and her laughter and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that.

It always brings him back to when Archie had told him he wanted to marry Betty. Jughead had been confused, they were best friends, they didn’t love each other like that. And Archie had laughed, made light of it, as if he wasn’t desperately in love with Betty and needed any excuse he could think of to be near her for the rest of his days. 

Jughead remembers being in the room when Archie had proposed this idea, the way FP’s eyes had flickered to Jughead as if he’d expected him to intervene. But Jughead had already seen the depth of the love that Archie felt for Betty, and the depth of love that Betty felt for Archie. He didn’t want to disapprove. He just wanted his friends to be happy. 

Archie was willing to spend his whole life and his whole being loving Betty, even if she didn’t ever love him back.

He doesn’t know why Veronica makes him think of that. He doesn’t know why seeing Veronica’s eyes light up makes him want to jump in the air and shout out in success. 

He thinks this must mean that he’s a hopeless romantic. He’s only know this woman for a week, and he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s spoken to her alone. 

_That’s it_ , he thinks, when he realises that Veronica is once again clothed in midnight blue, looking like a vision. He finds it hard to swallow, hard to breathe for a second - his tie is constricting against his neck. _It’s time to call in reinforcements_. _You need to get this under control_. _Now_.

But when Veronica smiles at him from her place next to Betty he thinks that maybe he doesn’t want to.

* * *

**OCTOBER 9th, 2020**

_That’s how it began, my courtship with a prince. At that point I didn’t truly know what I was getting into. I suppose you can’t ever know._

_What I did know was that I liked Jughead. But even when I knew, for sure, that I loved him, there was always a voice in the back of my head wondering if anything was worth it. The headlines were always a little too cruel, the other royals always a little too offended by my presence to truly accept me_. 

_That was when I really started to ask myself the question I swore I would never let come between Jughead and I._

_Is it even worth it?_

_I can tell you one thing, at that charity gala, with Jughead smiling at me from afar, it was._

_But after that?_

_I’m not so sure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, this is dedicated to cara. all the love.


	3. even while we sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl arrives to support Veronica at another charity gala, just as one of the biggest scandals in royal history takes flight.

**OCTOBER 9th, 2020**

Veronica frowns at her screen. Cheryl thinks that this is pointless. Jughead finds it amusing. Betty’s worried.

Veronica doesn’t know what to think.

It’s true that she can never show anyone this story – the story of her life. Even if one day she did write an autobiography it wouldn’t be like this – this bare truth, everything uncovered, completely unchanged for the world to see.

Except this is for her eyes only.

And she can write whatever she wants.

 _It was the 23_ _rd_ _day of January, and I was planning, organising and hosting yet another charity gala. This time, Betty had taken over quite a bit and I was all the more grateful for it._

_I didn’t quite know what to think about that charity gala, because it was, as always, just another opportunity for me to spend time with Jughead, another opportunity for me to be in the public eye – a place I wasn’t sure I liked at all._

_But a lot of things happened at that gala. My best friend met the love of her life, and I in turn cemented myself as a competitor in the king’s eyes, although competitor for what I’ve never been quite sure. And everything went wrong in the end and started what would perhaps be the biggest scandal since the Crown Prince had decided to date an American upstart._

_I suppose that a good place to start would be when we (Betty, Archie, Jughead and I) collectively realised that we were missing a piece of the puzzle, a piece that would make everything make sense._

_And that piece of the puzzle was none other than Her Royal Highness, Princess Forsythia of Great Britain, or as I knew her, Jellybean Jones, a brat, a troublemaker, and the bane of Betty’s existence._

_She was, to no one’s surprise but Jughead’s, the instigator of said scandal, and my life was forever changed, the day that she came flouncing up to the ballroom door and told me that I should be nervous._

* * *

**JANUARY 23rd, 2018**

Betty’s fussing. She knows that she’s fussing, but she can’t help it. Veronica must look perfect, otherwise everything that she’s worked for is going to be for nothing. If Veronica doesn’t look perfect then everyone will focus on that, rather than the effort that Betty’s put in to make Veronica’s charity gala the best charity gala that the world has ever seen.

Suffice to say, Betty is _not_ coping well.

Behind her Jughead and Archie are talking in low voices, handsome in their dark suits. They look like Hollywood movie stars rather than princes, but Betty supposes that the masses will be starstruck all the same.

Gently, she prises Veronica’s clenched fingers apart, noting with some pride that her nails are still pristine.

‘Are you alright?’ she whispers, keeping Jughead in the corner of her eye, lest he try to call the whole thing off in order to look heroic in Veronica’s eyes.

Veronica gives a wan smile. ‘I’m okay,’ she says, threading her fingers through Betty’s. ‘Just nervous, I guess.’

‘Oh V,’ Betty sighs. ‘You have absolutely _nothing_ to be nervous about.’

A snort resounds in the ballroom. Betty spins around so fast that she almost cracks her neck. Jellybean stands at the edge of the doorway, peering in, with a look of disdain on her face.

‘Really, Elizabeth? Counselling Miss Lodge in nerves? As if you’ve ever been nervous a day in your life.’

Betty flinches, just a little bit. But it’s enough for Archie to come and place a warm hand on her shoulder, which calms her down.

It doesn’t endear her to Jellybean though, who shoots her a hard glare. ‘As I was saying, Veronica, _darling_ , you have plenty to be nervous about. Just think of all the things that could go wrong! Think of all the mistakes that you could make without even knowing that you’re making them-’

‘Jellybean!’ Jughead snaps, looking uncharacteristically angry. ‘What the hell was that about? Are you _trying_ to freak Veronica and Betty out?’

Privately, Betty thinks that was exactly what Jellybean was aiming for. Veronica is as white as a sheet, but Jellybean is wearing a smug look of satisfaction. Betty wants to slap the smile off her face, although she doesn’t know if it’s on Veronica’s behalf or her own.

‘Sorry,’ says Jellybean, not sounding sorry at all. ‘I guess I’d just rather have the truth than a pretty lie.’

She looks directly at Betty when she says this, staring right through her. Betty feels a wave of nausea shoot through her, and she knows without being able to see that she is now as white as Veronica.

Can Jellybean know? Can Jellybean know that Betty’s marriage is a farce, a _pretty lie_ , made up so that Betty could marry and so that Archie could marry and so that the public could have a couple to worship?

 _Of course she knows_ , Betty realises. _She’s always known_.

‘Well,’ says Jellybean, folding her hands together demurely. ‘I should be taking my leave. I _do_ have to get ready for tonight, after all.’

She turns with a little tilt of her head, and sashays away. Betty wants to scream after her, but she reins her desire in. She is a princess and a lady after all, and princesses and ladies do not scream or shout or rage or cry. They keep their emotions buried deep, locked inside and instead of showing them they smile.

Perhaps that was why Betty could barely stand her mother.

‘I’m sorry about her,’ Jughead is saying to Veronica. Betty hears it as white noise. Her head is ringing. ‘I really don’t know what’s gotten into her lately. She’s being such a brat.’

Betty wants to laugh, but she can’t move her mouth, can’t get the sound out. She feels light, like she’s falling. Her head is dizzy, she’s seeing stars.

And then there’s Archie, leaning over her, textbook concern written all over his face. Betty wants to punch him, no, kiss him. She doesn’t know what she wants, but she doesn’t want a pretty lie. Oh how she loves and hates this prince. Loves him because he’s _her_ Archie and hates him because he’s not.

‘Hey Betts,’ he whispers, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Mm,’ she mumbles, content to bury her head into his neck. ‘I feel weird.’

‘You don’t look so good,’ he says, and she lifts her head long enough to give him a mock glare.

He laughs. ‘Come on then,’ he grins, lifting her up into his arms.

And Betty smiles too, at her sweet summer prince, forever trying to do right by her.

Maybe it was a pretty lie, and a lie nonetheless, but it was Betty’s lie, and Betty’s _life_.

Maybe it was enough.

* * *

Veronica’s fiddling with her dress, making the finishing touches to her gown, ready to spirit herself off to the ball. Truthfully, she felt a bit like Cinderella, a simple maid transformed into a beautiful princess due to something as benign as meeting a fairy godmother.

Or, in Veronica’s case, a prince.

Her phone rings – it’s Cheryl on the other line.

‘Hey Cher-’ Veronica starts, but Cheryl cuts her off.

‘Which room is yours again?’

‘What?’ Veronica asks.

‘Your hotel room. Which number are you in again?’

‘Oh,’ Veronica says, still hopelessly confused. ‘I think it’s 908, why?’

‘Because,’ replies Cheryl, sounding strangely breathless, ‘I’m here.’

Veronica chokes. ‘ _What_?’

‘I’m here.’

‘Here as in here at the hotel?’

‘That would be a yes.’

‘ _Why_?’

‘Did you really think that I was going to miss another one of your events? Especially when I get to butt heads with royalty and maybe land myself a duke? Or a duchess. I’m really not that picky.’

‘Cheryl, babe, you’re not even on the list.’

‘Well you can put me on, right?’

‘And why would I do that?’

‘Because I’m your best friend in the entire world and you would do anything for me?’

Veronica groans. ‘Obviously.’

There is a frantic knock on the door, and Veronica opens it to find a very frazzled Cheryl, looking every inch the teenager that Veronica had met in an audition when they were both sixteen.

‘Oh thank god you’re here,’ she says, and throws her arms around her best friend.

Cheryl smells like home, just like she always has, and just how, Veronica suspects, she always will. Her red hair is even longer than it had been the last time that Veronica had seen her, and she is dressed in a stunning gown of green velvet, flowers embroidered up the side.

And all the worry that Veronica’s been feeling ever since Jellybean had stormed into a room and told her that all her worst fears would probably come true, Veronica feels a calm wash over her and she smiles.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ Veronica says, holding onto Cheryl a little bit tighter than she needs to. ‘I missed you so much.’

‘I missed you too,’ says Cheryl. ‘And it feels so good to hear someone talk as if they’re from California and not off to a tea party in some rich person’s home.’

Veronica snorts. ‘You should hear Jughead’s accent. He’s got the good kind of posh in his voice. And Betty’s is wonderful.’

Cheryl beams. ‘I can’t wait to meet them all. I’m actually dying to know how _you_ of all people managed to wiggle your way into high society without even so much as a backward glance. Or people wondering who the hell you are and what you were doing there.’

Veronica fakes hurt. ‘Why do you say it like that?’

‘Because,’ says Cheryl, ‘For the most part you hate the uppity nature of the monarchy. And you think that the king in particular is, to use the British word, a cad.’

Veronica snorts. ‘That _is_ true, but Jughead’s different. He’s more worldly, for starters. And he’s the face of this new stage of royalty. I really feel like he can make a difference, so that monarchy won’t just be an institution that is there because it’s been there for the last however many years rather than because the people see it as an effective way to change with the times.’

Cheryl purses her lips. ‘That’s the problem with the general public, I’m afraid. They always want the opposite of what you think they want – the royals should be grateful that they _are_ still such a prized institution. Because the times, I’m afraid, are changing.’

She pauses, turning to Veronica with a grin. ‘But not so much that I’m going to miss out on what may be the biggest charity event of the season, packed to the bring with up and comers, royalty and A-listers! Honestly Ronniekins, if you thought I was going to miss out on this, then the fool was you.’

Veronica beams. ‘I’ll do your hair. We’ve got about fifteen minutes. I need to get there early to play the role of the ever-gracious hostess.’

‘Well,’ says Cheryl. ‘You better get right to it then!’

* * *

Jughead is quietly, but surely, and most certainly, freaking out. He can feel it in his fingers, tapping against his leg, agitated, full of energy that he doesn’t know what to do with. In his brightly shined, freshly black shoe, his pinkie toe is twitching, his foot matching the rhythm of his fingers.

Yeah, he’s _definitely_ freaking out.

Beside him, Betty is the picture of the perfect princess, hair curled and pulled back, not one thing out of place. She’s twisting her fingers, making them turn white. Archie covers her hands with his own, silently offering his support, and Jughead feels Betty relax.

Across the room, Jellybean’s scowl deepens.

‘I don’t understand why we have to wait for _Veronica_ ,’ she snaps, a crease forming on her brow. ‘She’s the least important person to have anything to do with this gala.’

‘Jellybean,’ Betty says, and it sounds like a plea. ‘Can’t you be nicer to Veronica?’

‘Can’t you be nicer to Veronica?’ Jellybean mimics. ‘I don’t know if I can do that, Betty dearest. After all, she’s not exactly what one would call _sophisticated_.’

Jughead rises to attention. ‘Get over yourself Jellybean. Veronica’s been nothing but nice to you and Betty’s done absolutely nothing to incur your wrath.’

But there is a dark look in Jellybean’s eye that Jughead doesn’t like. ‘Whatever,’ she says, and flounces away.

Jughead groans. When exactly had his sister become such a brat? When had she crossed the line from surly teenager to spoilt heiress? And why did she try to antagonise Betty at every turn, seeming to gain something every time Betty lost?

It’s doing his head in. Jughead resolves to talk to his father, to try and implement something that’ll make Jellybean wake up and smell the daffodils – or at least something that would wake her up out of her funk for good.

‘Are you okay?’ Archie murmurs to Betty, concern written all over his face. ‘I don’t know why she’s being so awful.’

‘It’s not your fault Arch,’ Betty whispers, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘I think she just woke up one day and decided that she hated me, and always had. I don’t think we’ll ever go back to the way that we were before, when we were just Betty and Jelly, children, through and through.’

Archie gives Betty a sad smile, the kind that says _I love you, I’m here_.

Jughead feels his heart ache at the sight of it. How long has he watched his two friends dance around each other, never quite allowing themselves to give away how they feel? How long has he seen Betty light up a room when Archie’s near? How often has he accompanied Archie to pick out Betty’s favourite flowers, day in and day out?

Too long, he realises. Far too long.

‘Veronica!’

Jughead turns his head, and there she is, the reason he’d been freaking out, the reason for Jellybean’s anger. She’s dressed in red tonight, long black hair looking even darker against the bright fabric. Beside her stands a tall, elegant young woman, red hair gathered across one shoulder. ‘So this is the prince,’ she says, looking highly amused.

Jughead pushes himself forward, leaning down to kiss Veronica on the cheek. She smells like vanilla bean. Jughead swears that he could get lost in it.

‘Hey,’ he says quietly, always at a loss for words when it comes to Veronica. ‘You look gorgeous.’

Veronica smiles, threading her arm through his. ‘Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.’

Jughead beams down at her. His freak out feels like a thing of the past.

The red head coughs.

‘Oh,’ says Veronica, startled. ‘This is Cheryl, my very best friend in the whole world.’

Cheryl smiles. She strikes Jughead as someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer, no matter the circumstance. She smiles beatifically at Jughead, turning to incline her head towards Archie and Betty, the latter, Jughead notes, not looking ecstatic that Veronica has more than one friend.

‘Shall we?’ says Betty, offering her free hand to Veronica, who pats Jughead’s arm gently and takes it.

They stroll into the ballroom, Cheryl sliding into the place that Veronica has just vacated at Jughead’s side.

‘So,’ she says, long nails digging into the pressed fabric of his suit. ‘You are His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Forsythe Pendleton Jones III.’

Jughead winces internally at the use of his full name. ‘That would be me,’ he replies, keeping a steady pace to accommodate the privacy that Cheryl so clearly craves from him. ‘But I go by Jughead these days. It’s hard to believe, but the nickname is marginally better than the given name.’

‘I bet,’ says Cheryl, giving him the fakest smile that he has ever seen. ‘Now you seem like a nice guy Jughead. You even seem like someone I would befriend out of choice rather than necessity. But I need to know one thing, and one thing only before I can give you my blessing.’

Before Jughead can even ask why he needs her blessing for anything, she barrels ahead. ‘What are your intentions towards my dearest Veronica?’

Jughead almost trips. He definitely turns red and he definitely tries to splutter out an answer.

But the words don’t come, and if they do, it’s gibberish.

He clears his throat. Reminds himself that he’s a prince. ‘What are you referring to when you talk about intentions?’

‘I mean,’ says Cheryl, not content to back down, ‘are you planning on leaving Veronica with her reputation ruined when you’ve had your fun? Are you planning on having a good time, good enough that it sets the tabloids going and then giving up and finding yourself a proper English wife? Because if you are, then I suggest that you cease and desist. If you hurt Veronica in any way Jughead Jones, prince or no prince, I will find a way to make you pay. And be warned: I do not suffer fools lightly.’

She marches away, back straight, head lifted proudly, leaving Jughead to stare after her in slight awe.

* * *

The party is in full swing by the time Betty has finished the compulsory rounds of a royal. Her feet hurt. So does her back. But Archie’s beside her, warm and full of life, so Betty can’t complain too much about the state of her blisters.

What she _can_ complain about, however, is the lack of Jughead in the room…and now that she thinks about it, the lack of Veronica as well.

 _Huh_ , she grins. _That sly old bastard_.

But she can’t begrudge them the time together, not really. What she would’ve given to be able to escape to a secluded spot where she and Archie could just _be_ instead of constantly keeping up appearances with big fake smiles on their faces.

Archie smiles down at her, grin wide and genuine. For a moment her heart stops, skips a beat as she smiles back.

Betty doesn’t remember the moment she first started loving Archie. She doesn’t even remember when she realised that she loved him. One day she woke up and she just did, and she always had.

And she always will.

Betty’s not a cynic. She’s not a pessimist, or even a realist. She’s an optimist, through and through.

So when her mother had told her, in blunt terms, that she would marry Archie she had felt like jumping for joy. All of her love, her patience, had paid off, and she was to marry the man of her dreams.

But true love, it turns out, especially when the monarchy is involved, is not all that it seems. She’d seen Archie at the press engagement _for_ their engagement and he’d been shaking, sweating, nervous beyond belief.

And that was when Betty had given up on a fairytale romance, on her feelings one day being returned. All she had was Archie’s friendship, and that was all she’d ever have. It wasn’t harsh, it was just reality. And it might’ve sucked, but Betty knew that having Archie in her life platonically was better than not having him in her life at all.

But still, hand tucked through his arm, leaning against his shoulder, Betty wishes, just for a moment, for a different life, one where Archie looked at her like she was the sun, and not just a pretty star he’d held hands with when they were five and now held a certain affection for.

‘Well don’t you two look loved up.’

Betty sighs. Is it too much to ask for one night without Jellybean reminding her that the only emotion she feels for Betty nowadays is hate?

Apparently not.

Jellybean holds a glass of champagne, the liquid looking precariously close to spilling. Every hair is in place, but there is something off about her, something that Betty knows both Jughead and FP will be furious about.

‘Jellybean,’ she hisses, ‘you’re drunk!’

Jellybean rolls her eyes. ‘And a round of applause for the royal genius! Now I know why you wanted to go to university, Betty – it was so you could show off those marvellous deduction skills.’

Betty flinches at the mention of her dreams, once so close and now so far. Beside her, Archie is stock still, and when he speaks his voice is cold. ‘That’s enough, Jellybean. Don’t talk to Betty like that.’

Betty knows that she can stand up for herself, but it warms her to her toes to see Archie so readily putting himself in the line of fire for her. It makes her love him just a little bit more, if at this point it’s even possible.

‘I’ll do what I want,’ snarls Jellybean, leaning in so that Betty can smell the alcohol on her breath. ‘I’m a princess, remember? This is my party, and I’ll cry if I want to.’

‘Actually,’ Betty cuts in, ‘this is _Veronica’s_ party, and you will _not_ tarnish her image with whatever phase you’re going through right now.’

Jellybean laughs, far too loudly. They’re beginning to attract a lot of attention from the other party goers, and for once Betty wishes that her mother would swoop in to save the day. One hard look from Alice could silence Jellybean in a heartbeat, Betty knows.

‘What are you going to do about it Betty?’ She taunts, no longer content to stay silent. ‘What are you going to do when I take everything from you, bit by bit, and ruin you completely? Will you sit there on your high horse and lecture me about phases?’

Betty is shocked silent. Archie, however, speaks up. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

Jellybean looks smug. ‘I’m going to take everything from you, Betty.’

There is a glint in her eye that Betty knows means trouble. ‘Starting with him.’

Everything slows down. Betty can count the breaths that she takes, she can see everything with a sudden clarity, as Jellybean leans forward and clasps Archie’s collar between her hands.

Archie’s eyes go wide, Betty feels her heart stop beating, her breath coming out in short, sharp stabs, as Jellybean pulls Archie’s mouth down to meet her own.

Jellybean kisses him, right there, in the middle of a crowded ballroom, full of the press and royalty and celebrities. She kisses him with abandon, and Betty can feel her face contort. She knows, without the need of a mirror, that she looks horrified beyond measure.

Jellybean releases Archie with a gasp. She’s no longer smiling – perhaps realising that nothing good can come from what she’s just done.

Archie turns to Betty, his expression a mix of apologetic and apocalyptic. Betty can see the smudge of Jellybean’s lipstick on his lips. She’s never hated anything more in her life.

The whispers start, building into havoc, into chaos. A flash of a camera pierces Betty's eyes.

She can hear Archie talking, saying something, something about damage control, getting out of here now, but Betty can’t hear him properly.

All she’s thinking about is the flash of that camera, the way her eyes are stretched almost comically wide in horror.

And Jellybean’s words echo in her head.

All in all, it’s not her fault when she faints dead away in a crowded room where a scandal is taking flight.

After all, who could blame her?

* * *

Cheryl doesn’t know what to make of the party – it’s full of people she only half recognises, some more familiar than others, and some not familiar at all.

She searches for Veronica, but she knows that it’s in vain. Veronica’s off canoodling with a prince, and Cheryl is stuck navigating the stormy waters of the monarchy by herself.

She stands in the corner observing, a glass of champagne propped daintily in her hand. She tries to look sophisticated, elegant, but she suspects that she just looks constipated instead.

Why again had she ambushed Veronica and demanded an invite to a party for elite society, something that Cheryl was decidedly _not_ a member of?

It was not a reason that made Cheryl look good, that was for sure. If she was being completely honest it made her look like a stalker.

Which she wasn’t.

Not really, anyway.

Cheryl had, accidentally, come across the Instagram page of the official royal photographer, who had instantly charmed her through a screen.

Her name was Toni Topaz, and she was the most gorgeous woman that Cheryl had ever seen.

Which was why she was scanning the crowd like a hawk, looking for Toni’s tell-tale purple hair, so that she could either bump into her or spill her drink.

She hadn’t really decided yet.

But she was an hour into a glamorous, but dreadful party and there was still no sign of the photographer. Maybe she hadn’t come? Or maybe she was so short that Cheryl wouldn’t have been able to see her even if she was walking on stilts.

‘Excuse me?’

Cheryl spins around and finds exactly who she’s been looking for: the one, the only, Toni Topaz, dressed in purple to match her hair.

‘You’re Cheryl Blossom, right?’

Cheryl gulps. Her celebrity crush knows who she is. Somehow, she’s sure she’s about to wake up still on the plane on route to England.

‘Yes,’ she replies, putting on a bright smile. ‘I am she; she is me.’

Inwardly she kicks herself. Where is the charming and suave Cheryl who would surely sweep Toni off her feet? Clearly having a night off, because so far, all Cheryl can do is bumble.

Meanwhile Toni is still talking. ‘Anyway, I’m rambling, but I absolutely _loved_ the photoshoot you did with TMRW magazine, and I guess I was wondering if you’d do me the honour of letting me photograph you?’

‘Wait,’ says Cheryl, her brain short circuiting. ‘You want to take pictures of _me_?’

Toni nods enthusiastically. ‘You have a great face for shoots, not to mention you’re drop dead gorgeous. And I’m pretty sure you could pull off any look, which is why you’re a model, I’m guessing.’

‘Something like that,’ Cheryl smiles. She can get into her tragic backstory on the second date. Right now, she has a photographer to charm.

‘So tell me Toni,’ she says, and Toni looks impressed that Cheryl knows her name. ‘What exactly were you thinking?’

* * *

It’s raining by the time Veronica makes it back to her hotel. She’s giddy, lightheaded. She feels alive, like she’s just landed the biggest gig of her life.

And who knows? Maybe she has.

Dating Jughead is…weird. There was no escaping that dating an actual, real, larger than life prince was something that Veronica had truly never deemed possible due to numerous factors, all to do with the fact that Jughead was…a prince.

The first had been that she was American, a world away from the monarchy of England, secured in California beaches and tan skin on hot days. There had also been the whole acting thing – Veronica knows that the royal family doesn’t exactly have day jobs – or technically, jobs at all.

But now, here she was, back from what probably qualifies as her second date with the future king of England and dying to call Cheryl and squeal over the reality of it all.

Because despite the fantasy fairytale of dating a prince, it was Veronica’s reality, no matter how hard she tried to rationalise it, or put it into a specific box that she could file away in her mind.

Veronica sighs, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and flopping down onto her bed. She’s exhausted, and not just from the gala. She’s organising far too many charity events, and while Betty is happy to help, it’s far too much work for only two people.

It makes her feel lonely, isolated, with a sea between her home and where she is.

It makes her miss her mother. It makes her miss Cheryl, even though she knows that she’ll be seeing her _much_ later, if Cheryl’s enthusiastic conversation with the purple haired royal photographer was anything to go by. 

_Hell_ , at this point she might even miss her father.

Unwittingly, and even though she knows now that Betty really didn’t mean what she’d said, Veronica can’t help but hear the words echo in her head: _don’t fall in love with a prince_.

And Veronica’s not planning to, not really. She likes Jughead, she does.

But that doesn’t stop her from listing the reasons in her head as to why they’d never work out.

But the closer she gets, the more she wants it to.

The closer they become, the more she wishes that he wasn’t a prince and that maybe they’d just met in college, like couples were wont to do. She wishes all the time that they’d met under different circumstances, as different people.

And those words come back to her, all the damn time, haunting her as if they can tell what she’s really thinking and feeling.

 _Don’t fall in love with a prince_. Veronica laughs, a little bitterly.

 _It might be a little too late for that_ , she thinks, and pours herself a shot of bourbon.

Her phone pings with an alert, Veronica strolls to her window, offering the phone a cursory glance.

She drops her glass.

**_PRINCESS FORSYTHIA SPOTTED HEATEDLY KISSING PRINCE ARCHIBALD_ **

**_PHOTOS TO PROVE IT: ARE PRINCESS FORSYTHIA AND PRINCE ARCHIE ENGAGED IN A TORRID AFFAIR?_ **

**_PRINCESS BETTY’S HEARTBREAK – HOW PRINCESS FORSYTHIA STOLE PRINCE ARCHIE AWAY_ **

**_WHY PRINCESS BETTY FAINTED AND WHY HER MARRIAGE IS ON THE ROCKS!_ **

‘Oh my god,’ she whispers.

* * *

**OCTOBER 9th, 2020**

Veronica pauses, hands stilling on the keyboard.

 _I think the thing that scared me the most_ , she writes, _is that I wasn’t scared at all. And I should have been. I should have been terrified out of my mind._

_But I wasn’t. I was so caught up in the fairytale of it all – the whole ‘you’re dating a prince’ thing that I forgot to be scared. I forgot about what would happen next, when the rest of the world found out, because the rest of the world was too busy being focused on another scandal, building right under everyone else’s noses._

_And I always wonder if I would have been scared if I had known what was to come._

_And sadly, honestly, the answer is always a resounding ‘yes’._

_I don’t know what that says about me._

_But it wasn’t only about me anymore. Betty was going through something horrifically traumatic, being both crucified and praised by the press. Archie was wracked with guilt, refusing to attend public engagements for the next two months._

_And Jughead was out of his mind with worry, for both his friends and for the future of the monarchy in England._

_Because the breakdown of Betty and Archie’s marriage by Jellybean wasn’t the only scandal waiting on the horizon._

_Not by a long shot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, this is dedicated to cara. all the love.


End file.
